ould not surrender, but took his gun and went on
commando. Three days later he was brought in, shot through the lungs.
That is the last I have been able to hear of him.

A few days after the battle of Spion Kop we moved forward and opened
another office on our right wing. The British soon after retired from
the vicinity, and this wing was withdrawn. The office remained, however,
being utilised by scouts and patrols for the transmission of urgent
reports.

One day Oberst von Braun called, accompanied by two Boers. I asked him
what had become of his lieutenant.

"Ah, poor von B----!" he said. "The fighting on Spion Kop was almost
over, and he had just risen and walked forward a few steps, when a
chance bullet crashed into his forehead, and he fell a corpse."

This was the same lieutenant who had caused a great sensation in Germany
a few years before by killing an unarmed civilian in a moment of
provocation. It may seem a just retribution that he should have met
with such a tragic fate, but those who knew him in Natal felt nothing
but regret for his loss. Oberst von Braun was taken prisoner a few days
after, and the British reported that his mind was unhinged. This did not
appear improbable to us, for we knew how much he had been affected by
the loss of his companion.

I stayed here for three weeks, without much occupation except wasting
ammunition on turtle doves and hoping that the next patrol would not be
a British instead of a Boer one.

The deserted houses in the neighbourhood had all been visited in turn by
both British and Boer patrols, and between the two enormous damage had
been wrought. It must be pointed out, however, that the mischief done by
our men was in no way authorised--was, in fact, against express orders,
whereas the British now burn our houses to the joyful fiddling of the
London _Times_, and with a righteous unction eminently national.

A small but remarkably severe engagement took place about this time, in
which a portion of Viljoen's men suffered heavily.

This detachment, about forty in number, was guarding a Nordenfeldt
stationed in an advanced position on an isolated hill. One afternoon a
large body of the enemy suddenly attacked the hill. Ben Viljoen, who,
as usual, was on the spot, is not what may be called an excessively
pious man, but he rose to the occasion and inspired his little band by
asking them if they did not fear God more than the British. Thus
encouraged to stand firm, they